


Lullaby

by cassbuttandsquirrel



Series: Suptober20 [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Assisted Suicide, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Post-Canon, Suptober 2020 (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:35:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26972245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassbuttandsquirrel/pseuds/cassbuttandsquirrel
Summary: "Our way is a peaceful way," she sits back up, the impassive mask suddenly falling away, "but many would argue you do not deserve peace."[In a world in which victory came at the price of those he loves most, Dean proposes his final deal to the djinn queen.]
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Suptober20 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1962145
Comments: 5
Kudos: 13





	Lullaby

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my attempt at suptober20 prompt number 5 "daydream"  
> Warnings for MCD and implied assisted suicide so please keep that in mind and stay safe.  
> Hope you enjoy!

She doesn't look anything like Dean expected. She's beautiful, he guesses, but in the way in which the clear brook in an autumn forest is beautiful - a type of other-worldly splendor that's he's only glimpsed once before. 

It makes sense that she's his wife. 

"You are steeped in our blood, Dean Winchester." 

He flexes his fists and feels the dried blood pull at his skin and crack. There's some on his collar too, turning the edges of his flannel brown and stiffening the neck of his tee where it scrapes against his collarbone. 

He hadn't planned to show up like this, blood in his hair and under his nails, but the first two he'd tracked down had thought this was some elaborate trap and things had gone sideways. 

"I've come to offer my life as payment for those I've taken."

Dean feels a small tick of annoyance at the forced formality, but he is so close to his goal that he pushes it back down. 

"A death wish?" She sits back into the shadows. "Astonishing." Her flat delivery chips something away in Dean's chest and his throat tightens. He keeps silent in response.

He's not sure where they are, but it's dark and dry, and the light that illumines her face is tinged blue from the runes pulsing softly around them.

"Our way is a peaceful way," she sits back up, the impassive mask suddenly falling away, "but many would argue you do not deserve peace." Her bared teeth glow threateningly in the eerie light. 

"It's a one time deal, lady." Dean grits his teeth right back, his trusty false bravado pushing him forward. "Either you take it, or I leave here the only one alive." 

"No." Her voice is almost pitying. "No." She steps down from her throne, blue etchings sparking to life along her cheeks and forehead and curling along the back of her hands. "This was your final destination all along." She stops in front of him. "But why chose me?"

He can't meet her eyes. "Your husband," he mutters. His throat clicks and he fights the urge to clear it. 

"My what?" Her voice is filled with incredulous laughter. 

"Your husband," Dean snaps louder, hating that he has to say it again.

"That is a human thing," she spits, "I have no use for a _husband_." She says the word like it's a disgrace. 

"The angel." He's defensive and Dean can feel his face flush in the dark. 

Her posture softens and she says a word Dean doesn't recognise and then an accented: "Castiel."

Dean swallows and looks away as she studies him. 

"He was reluctant to be known," she offers it as if it's a consolation, and it hangs between them. 

Dean waits.

She makes up her mind with a gesture, and heavy hands on Dean's shoulders force him to his knees. Anticipation rattles behind his ribs.

"I cannot bring him back," Dean ignores the naked pity in her eyes, "but we have been," she searches for a word, "whole, so I can give you the most faithful approximation to himself." 

Dean thinks he might throw up and he stops his hand just short of gripping her tunic in desperation. 

"Please." He pushes the word past trembling lips; he was so close. 

"For him," she repeats the same word again, "so that he may be loved even in memory." She reaches a hand toward his upturned face as if in blessing, and Dean slips away into her daydream.

**Author's Note:**

> First time I've ever written MCD -- definitely not my usual style.  
> Wrote this on the way to visit my brother for Thanksgiving so Happy Thanksgiving to my fellow Canadians who celebrate it!! Please remember that it is also National Indigenous Peoples Day in the States (celebrated June 21st in Canada) and that it is very important to be aware of the damaging & tragic history of colonization.  
> Kudos and comments are appreciated
> 
> Cry with me on [ Twitter! ](https://twitter.com/librarian_gamer?s=07)


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